So, it was like a sequel to a Rob Schneider movie, and not even Rob Schneider bothered to return.
I speak of the U.N Framework Convention on Climate Change that annoyed Cancun, Mexico earlier this month. Mind you, over ten thousand people have been murdered over drugs in that country this year -so this confab seemed about as relevant as a pimple on a griffen’s butt.
It was only a year ago that the Copenhagen Summit was kind of a big deal, but that faded faster than my Ed Hardy denim underwear. So it’s no surprise that the experts here have turned to the gods for help. Christian Figuera, the executive secretary, desperately invoked the ancient jaguar goddess Ixchel – for she’s not only goddess of the moon, but also “reason, creativity and weaving.”
Yes, weaving. Because, “you are gathered in Cancun to weave together the elements of a solid response to climate change…” blah blah..time for a break:
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So anyway, what was once almost policy is now parody. You’ve got every climate change model in dispute – thanks to the climategate emails, lies about hockey stick graphs and phony Himalayan glacier meltdowns. As someone willing to seriously discuss global warming – it’s a relief to see the hysteria die, but it’s also sad to think that maybe some of the science might have had merit. They screwed the pooch. And the planet.
Still, our American climate ambassador (yeah, there’s such a thing) Jonathan Pershing has pledged billions of our tax money to help promote provisions that won’t do crap after all that money has been spent.
Me, I’d rather spend it on an ancient jaguar goddess. She could weave me a Navajo blanket. My houseboy has to sleep somewhere.
And if you disagree with me, you’re a racist, homophobic Cancunophobe.